September 2nd, 2014

Spending more and more time at the farm.

I’m excited to share that I’ve got some western riding lessons lined up on one of my mom’s greener horses. I’ve only ridden a couple trails in a western, but for the majority of my life I rode english, and trained in the English discipline. So, I’ll be learning a bit of a cross over and I’m rather excited. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

September 2nd, 2014

Pop Keegan has a Wolfsburg Edition Westfalia Syncro and he loves parking it everywhere on the farm, here she is camouflaged behind the privacy grass at the pool. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

September 1st, 2014

As of late.

Find me on the ‘gram @tkowkat

August 31st, 2014

I hold myself as accountable as him, all this time later. When I now realize I came in like a hurricane. No warning, with passion, and demands. Wreckage. He kept up quite well, tempered me down a bit. Then he just decided to let me go on the path of partnership alone.

I blame him. I blame him for giving me high hopes then never filling the potential. 

I want to cross him off the list of people who occupied my heart. I want to wipe the slate clean. No one loved me. 

No one loved me like the man from Georgia who was sweet as a sunshine and made me laugh and blush. Who threw axes, and howled at the moon. Who let me be as silly as I wanted. Who made me happy and proud, even though I was a very different girl. 

No one loved me quite like that boy who penned love notes via the internet, in a language that was so foreign to him. Who was quiet and tall and completely broken in being a romantic. And I broke it off with him, and wept in the bedroom from my lonely teen years. 

No one loved me quite like the boy who always followed me with his eyes, and his heart. Who never truly told me what he felt, but was soft and kind as I hustled from one place to the other.

No one loved me like the man who held my face each night, with his big scarred hands, looking at me with a bit of hurt telling me with a slight surprised tone that he thought I was pretty. And who with a slightly surprised tone told me he loved me for the next 9 months. Like each time he looked at me, he still loved me, maybe even a little more each time. 

I’m sorry, to all the men I’ve known, because in knowing, I knew I’d never love  half has much as they thought they loved me.

I learned that love isn’t just saying the words. He used the words like I used to use “Je ne se pas” in french lectures, a cure all. “I love you” wasn’t a balm over your neglect, or my desires. 

I was and am bewitched with the idea that there is solely one person that my happiness depends on. Before it was another, but it is me.

Now, I know if someone can make me nearly as happy as I can make myself, and I can make that someone nearly as happy as they make their self  then there in lies the beginning of something. 

Now, until then, I’ll just work on all the things that make me happy over here. 

August 26th, 2014


I’m on instagram: @tkowkat 

August 24th, 2014

I’d like a lover to lay my hands upon. Not in ownership, but in praise.
I’d like a lover that sees stars in my eyes and fire in my soul.
I’d like a lover who is strong within himself and his desires.
I’d like a lover who doesn’t mind my occasional curses and laughs at my bad jokes.
I’d like a lover with a good heart who can hold his own with my mother.
I’d like a lover who can laze for hours, or go toe to toe on a project with me.
I’d like a lover that I can daydream about his mouth and hands. 
I’d like a lover to lay down next to in the evenings, and wake up intwined.
I’d like a lover to steal his shirts and find comfort in his scent with mine.
I’d like a lover who sees a woman, not a girl.
I’d like a lover who pushes and pulls. Who demands that I hold myself and him to a higher standard.

I’d like a lover who’s more than a lover. 

August 21st, 2014

The prettiest thing I ever did see, saving for a special occasion. 

August 21st, 2014

I did a small bit of yoga this morning on the beach, then I looked up and saw this. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

August 21st, 2014

I woke up this morning and went to the beach, except for the very sporadic walker, the beach felt like it belonged to me, and me to it.

From my instagram @tkowkat

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

August 18th, 2014

The college students are moving back into town, a mark that summer’s over. And… most of my friends have noticed I haven’t had any sort of fling or open attraction. A small mistaken attraction to a man with a soft looking mouth and a deep heart, severed quickly when I realized perhaps I was letting attraction rule over common sense. 

I suppose meeting the quarter century mark has come with some maturity. Or, I’ve already exhausted any thought of meeting a relatively hygienic, atheistically, intellectually and emotionally stimulating male. 

Six years in this town, many dates, many late night smooch sessions, many awkward first dates, and great other dates. Accidental arm touching, and purposeful butt squeezing. A couple boyfriends, a ton of friends.

Two summers in New York City, with lovely kind men, who are sweet on the eyes, and sweet on your lips. Many kind and beautiful friends to adventure with, to mistake and make memories with. A fall and winter in Philadelphia, mooning after raw denim clade men with long legs and hips that make me thing of tangled sheets. With bespectacled men who passed me on my lunch break in old city neighborhoods. A winter romance with a man who had scarred hands but an even more scarred heart, who held onto anger from 15 years prior. A light flirtation with a troubled soul who has found a direction but no sense of decision. 

I, I suppose, have given up storing my love and affection in men who aren’t substantial. I’m done attempting to build something with someone who doesn’t have the tools, nor the time. I won’t settle. 

I’m self sustaining. I flirt, and play witty talking games. I admire physique, and style. I admire mouths that tilt, and eyes that convey humor. I dodge sketchy situations, and tell off men who become too forward. I return to my bed alone. I have stopped hanging hopes on the moon. Handsome, charming, divinely attentive men. Oh, you champions of tricks. Speaking of my lush bottom lip, or how lovely the curve of my hips in the navy or black I wear. I tell my lust, settle, lay my hand over my heart. It’s not worth it, not worth letting someone really close to me, body and soul. A pledge that courage and strength in love is rewarding. 

I’m more interested in writing, or reading.  Spending time with friends who laugh and cheer, who dance and jest. Dating is asinine. It is obscene, and a fraud. Be friends with your lover, and if you can’t then why the hell are you with them?

August 5th, 2014

Slower morning. Sorting through my clothing, drinking a big jar of water, better tasting coming from crisp glass. Eat a tomato like an apple. Surrounded by a mess. Take a shower, sigh and squeak when the hot water hits the sensitive lower part of your back, where it dips in. 

Admire your feet and shoulders, the way your hands move, creating suds with the rolling of your fingers over the bar of soap. Peppermint. Steamy mirror. Lacy bra under a utilitarian sports version, cut offs, sleeveless tee.

Preparations for another day painting walls in a building that has housed families, doctors and servants, and then years and years later college students who don’t care about sealed up arched doorways, or original woodwork, hardwood floods hidden under bad carpet that acts as armor against cheap college furniture and couches that get abandoned. 

Bones of a building. Bones of a body. Not so different in the morning, noon or night. 

July 29th, 2014

Came home to find these beautiful pieces all wrapped in brown packing paper and tied with twine. Thank you so much Brian of tree totable​ I can’t wait for them to find their place in my kitchen. Check out his store here:

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

July 25th, 2014

My life of late, to see what I’m doing day to day, place to place, check out my instagram @tkowkat. 

(Source: thatkindofwoman)

July 17th, 2014

Last week, I went on an adventure to a cheesemaker’s milk house, and it was interesting and wonderful. Huge thanks to my friend and the owner Stefanie for letting me come and visit the Valley Milkhouse at the Covered Bridge Farm. 

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